


Outlaw

by ShippyBich



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:05:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12778509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippyBich/pseuds/ShippyBich
Summary: After the shock of what he had just done went down, he realized that it was an act that he would regret for the rest of his days, and an act that would haunt him forever.Because on that Sunday evening of 1976, Bill Bailey murdered his stepfather.





	1. Prologue I: On a Sunday Evening of 1976

**Author's Note:**

> So no one cares about this fandom anymore but idc I wanted to write some more fucked up GnR fanfics so enjoy!!  
> Edit: I changed the title but the date is still important!! I just changed it to suit the whole story instead of one part of it. Sorry for any confusion!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue is split into two parts, just so there isn't too much bunched up in the chapters. Just mentioning this so ou doesn't cause any confusion!

_After the shock of what he had just done finally went down, he realized that it was an act that he would regret for the rest of his days, and an act that would haunt him forever._

_Because on that Sunday evening of 1976, Bill Bailey murdered his stepfather._

**

The exact time and date had never been known, but it was in Lafayette, Indiana, on a Sunday evening in the year of 1976. Stephen Bailey, married father to three and very religious, was passed out on his living room couch, drunk as a skunk. Reason being that he thought like any other "good" Christian, that every Sunday be a day of rest. And, well, to him, _this was_  his idea of taking a good old break.

To any lone citizen, it would be perfectly okay to enjoy some alcohol on a night in the house, even if in rather, um, _heavy doses_ , but any honorable man would never do such a thing if he had a family to look after.

Enter Axl Rose, the oldest (step)son of Stephen Bailey, who had aged fourteen a few months prior to the incident. Or as he was known as back then, his real name, William Bailey.

That evening, when Bill was sneaking down the stairs to snatch some food to feed himself and his younger siblings, he had noticed that his stepfather was "sleeping" on the couch. At least, that was what his mother would tell him, Stuart, and Amy. All of them knew better though. It was no secret to all them that their father's schedule every Sunday was go to Church, ~~boast about his "good Christian family"~~ preach the sermon, and later in the evening drink so much that he might as well be dead for all he could do in his heavily influenced state. Which was why these evenings made Sunday a day of rest for Stephen, and a day of relief for his family.

After Bill had snuck from his father's stash of food from the refrigerator and was on his return to the stairs, he accidentally dropped a coke bottle. Unfortunately, the crash of glass hitting the tile floor of the kitchen was enough to awaken Stephen from his drunken slumber. When Bill saw the first signs of him arising with a startled grunt from the couch, he did what he always did when he and Stephen were in the same room: He attempted to get the hell out of there.

 _Attempted_. When he saw Stephen stand up with a groggy "who's there?" and started walking, he knew there was no escaping from what was to come. Stephen would see him. Trying to escape would only result in worst punishment. Maybe even his _last_ punishment...

 After he had located the source of noise, Stephen's eyes were placed upon Bill, locked in a glare, while Bill's eyes were as wide as a deer in headlights. He quickly set down everything else he had grabbed to the side on the kitchen floor, while making sure to keep his eyes on Stephen. He didn't know why he thought surrendering the food would change the situation, but he would try anything he could to get even the _light_ end of whatever Stephen had in store for him. Because a person is never happy after waking up to confront a major hangover. Replace said person with Stephen, who is never happy when drunk or sober (except for when ~~beating the living daylights out of his family~~  doing God's work), and you're practically a step away from having a mama bear on your hands. Except instead of fiercely protecting the lives of it's bear cubs, this bear would be fiercely protecting it's control over it's bear cubs.

If only Bill hadn't poked the bear.

"Boy, didn't I teach you that stealing was a _sin_?" He drawled out menacingly.

Bill stayed frozen, already anticipating what was to come. He wasn't even going to try to come up with an excuse for what he was caught doing. There was no covering up what Stephen had saw. 

"Sinner is what you are. Why I oughta teach your pl-"

As Stephen started to charge towards him in a rage, Bill tried to get out of the line of fire. He knew since Stephen was not technically fully conscious, he would be slower with turning while having to move. However, as Stephen kept trying to get a hold of Bill, Bill made a fatal mistake when he desperately tried to dodge Stephen, backing clumsily into the kitchen counter.

Stephen had him cornered, and aimed his fist towards his face. Bill tried to grab it while also trying to keep Stephen at a distance, even if only a few inches. However, Stephen had managed to give him a punch right on his right eye. Bill felt tears form as his eye started to throb intensely. He grimaced as Stephen kept beating his face, causing bruises and even actual bleeding. But then suddenly, Bill had noticed something: The knife holder was right beside him on the counter.

He had an idea.

When Stephen saw what Bill was doing, he gave him an elbow to the stomach so he would collapse. However Bill had already grasped one of the knives in his hand, causing the knife holder to fall over with a loud clank. Most of the knives stayed in the holder, but a few fell on the floor.

Bill did something stupid, but appropriate at the time. He shifted himself over so he was sitting on the knives. He knew Stephen was too wrapped up in watching what he was doing to grab one from the counter, but the ones on the floor would be an easy score. Bill was determined to make sure that Stephen did not get a hold of a knife, for he'd probably gut him right there on the floor.

Stephen wrestled Bill for the knife in his hands, pulling it from his grip. Bill was desperately clinging on to end of the base, being pulled with the knife. But soon the last of his remaining hold on it was untangled, and Stephen now possessed his only weapon. Bill couldn't grab one of the knives on the floor, for he would have to move one of his arms away from himself, therefore giving himself less protection. He didn't know what options he even had at this point. And he sure as hell didn't have time to think about what they could be. 

So right before Stephen would have turned the knife around, Bill lunged forward, grabbing the end of the base once again, and plunged the knife into Stephen's lower abdomen.


	2. Prologue II: The Departure

"Oh my God," Bill whispered in horror, as Stephen fell back onto the floor with a leaking red wound. And right in the center of the wound was no other than the knife.

Bill felt more fear than he had ever experienced in his life at that moment as he watched Stephen bleed out. Every single beating he received, every time he'd witnessed Stephen beating his siblings and molesting Amy to "cleanse her" when he was too little and too young to stop him, nothing topped this. 

Bill didn't know how much time had passed, but it felt like an eternity having to witness the lessening movement within the body before him. The lessening fall and rise of the chest. The lessening sounds of breathing.

 The lessening signs of life.

_Had he just...?_

The stiffening of the body that lay before him told Bill that he had.

Bill sat hiccuping from shock on the floor, kneeling by his now lifeless stepfather. He couldn't believe what he had done. But the proof was right there in front of him. And it was...on him.

Stephen's blood.

Bill screeched when he saw the red on his arms and hands. He stared at them with horror, his mouth and eyes wide open.

He started to go into a silent panic, nothing except his heavy breathing being audible,  wishing nothing more (besides having this never happen) than to be as far away from himself as possible. How long he sat doing this, he didn't know. But time soon started to creep up on him, and he slowly started to become normal functioning again.

 

-

 

After the shock of what he had just done finally went down, he realized that it was an act that he would regret for the rest of his days, and an act that would haunt him forever.

Stephen was actually right for once, in a way. Because even if Bill wasn't a sinner before, he sure was now.

-

Once Bill had regained himself off the floor, he grabbed the tainted knife, hid it under the counter, and went to the upstairs bathroom to wash himself off the best he could. He didn't want Amy and Stu to see him covered in blood, even if they probably had at least some idea of what had gone on downstairs between him and Stephen. He knew Sharon was probably in her room, scared as a hare, too cowardly to actually do anything in fear of Stephen (she thought of it as God's work as well). Maybe she'd actually start being a good mother now, Bill thought, and laughed, even though he felt no humor.

When Bill went into Amy and Stu's rooms, he had specifically told them both the same thing: "I have to go out for a little bit to take care of some things. Don't go downstairs. I think you know what I mean."

There was no way in hell he was going to tell them what actually happened, at least not for now, even though he was still sure that they probably had a guess about it. As much of a sadistic, abusive creep that he was, Stephen was still their dad, good one or not. The thing about parents is, you can hate their guts (and they can hate yours), but you always still have love for them. 

Bill knew what he had to do next: he had to get rid of the-he'd just call it "evidence". Bill wasn't no saint, to say in the least, but he sure had morals and boundary lines. And he was about to cross almost every single one.

He considered calling Jeffrey, but he thought of that as a horribly selfish thing to do. If anything about Stephen's murder was linked to him, Bill would be scared, but he could never forgive himself if anything was linked to Jeffrey because he had him help assist hiding the "evidence".

But he did know that seeing a teenaged boy out at night dragging something to the nearest river or lake looked rather suspicious. Even if it was little Billy Bailey, the pastor's son, because according to the town, a religious person could never do wrong. Only "God's work". He'd like to see how far he'd get with that one if he got caught. Knowing Stephen though, killing him off could have been God's assignment for him.

Bill hoped that God would give him a blessing and help him with this situation.

**

School was the next morning, and Bill was felt his nerves wracking a little less. He'd have about a week before people would start wondering where Stephen was. He was safe from questioning for now.

But then he had remembered something: he had Church on Wednesdays every evening.

And then the nerve wracking feeling was back. 

So everytime he sat at his desk in his classes for the past couple days. he would force himself to be still, and look straight at the wall. Bill had a tendency to fidget, but he figured it would make him visibly look nervous or stressed about something. After all, no one investigates the calm and collective guy. Even if said "calm and collective guy" isn't feeling so  calm. 

But on Wednesday, Bill's facade was barely held together. Jeffrey had even asked him multiple times if he was alright, and Bill would nod his head or force out a "yes". But Jeffrey could see through his act. He had heard enough of Billy's fake answers over the years when he had saw him on the doorstep of his house, bruised and bloodied because of a certain abusive stepfather.

-

After Bill got home from school that Wednesday, he went into the kitchen to gather some of the things he'd take. He grabbed some food cans from the cabinet, and took out some of Stephen's beer bottles from the refridgerator. He knew he wouldn't be able to survive on beer, so he poured it out of all the bottles and filled them with tap water instead. Bill then took his backpack off his shoulders and emptied it of all school supplies. He figured using it was his best bet of hiding his possessions from any wandering eyes. But there was one thing he did leave securely in the backpack: the knife.

When Bill was finished putting together his backpack, he went to talk to Amy and Stu. He was sure they'd have some questions, and he would answer them. Maybe just not in much detail. He knew they wouldn't purposely rat him out, but it was eaay to manipulate a kid into letting something slip. Bill knew Sharon would probably be wondering why Stephen had dissapeared as well, but he wouldn't bother with her, even if she secretly was as scared of Stephen as the rest of her family was. If he was lucky, she might not even realize. For a while, anyways.

Bill had told both Amy and Stu goodbye. Although he might have hugged Amy a little tighter. He wasn't a parent, it was okay for him to have a favorite.

After that, Bill knew that he was done at the house. He had one last person to say goodbye to before he'd set off for good.

-

"Billy," Jeffrey said, surprised. He knew Bill's schedule as well as Bill knew it himself, and he knew tonight was Church night. Bill would still come over to see him on Wednesdays, but it was 4:00 in the afternoon, only an hour before Church would start. But then Jeffrey looked at Bill's from facial expression, and he then knew that there was a reason he had come over.

"Izzy, I gotta talk to you."

"Okay, you can tell me. Here, step inside," Jeffrey assured and closed the door behind Bill once he stepped inside. Finally he would tell him what was bugging him so much.

"Listen, it's gonna take a lot of explaining, and you're not gonna like it."

"It's okay. Wanna go in my room and talk about it?"

"S-sure," Bill said slightly unsure. Jeffrey's mother would never sell him out, she treated him like her own son, but it made him feel more secure to not have Jeffrey's siblings spying on what they were discussing. But after when Bill would tell Jeffrey his plan, he wouldn't put Jeffrey locking him in his room and never letting him go out of the possible reactions. Jeffrey was what you could call in the least, caring, in the middle, protective, and at the greatest, possessive as a squirrel over nuts.

As soon as Jeffrey closed the door to his bedroom, Bill exploded like a bomb.

"I killed my dad."

"Jesus Christ Billy, I knew he'd be ridden of some day, but I wish I could have killed the motherfucker instead."

"Jeffrey, I'm serious!"

That was when it hit him. He looked directly into Bill's eyes. There was no gleam, no humorous expression. Bill wasn't joking.

"You...you...how? What happened?"

They sat down on the bed and Bill started talking.

"I was sneaking down to the kitchen to get some food. He was passed out drunk on the couch. When I was walking back from the kitchen, I accidentally dropped a coke bottle. On the tiles. Stephen woke up from his nap, and we got into a little, um, conflict. He was hitting me pretty good, and I was scared, so I tried to get a knife from the knife holder. He ended up pulling it away from me, but he hadn't had the blade turned around yet. And well..."

"Bill, that's self defense. I know you're really scared, but you ain't gonna get blamed."

"No Jeff, you don't get it. Nobody's gonna wanna believe that he did anything wrong. Citizens, authorities, nobody. He's a priest in a backwards conservative town. What does that spell out? I'm gonna get blamed for murder."

"What are you gonna do, Bill? I can help you with whatever you need."

"That's what I was getting too, Jeff. I'm running away."

"You're, you're leaving? For good?"

"Unless I can get a good witness, in which there was literally nobody watching except me and Stephen, both of which don't help me out much, then yeah."

"I guess that sack on your back ain't because you wanted to stay over with me, huh?" Jeffrey remarked sadly. He wanted to think Bill was joking. But he knew better. Bill, his best friend, his fiery redheaded spark, was leaving him for good.

"Can't I come with you? I'll protect you Billy."

"I know you would. But it's gonna look suspicious enough if they see I've left. I don't want them to think that you're associated with what happened in any way. You'll be charged with assisting murder. You'll get a lifelong prison sentence. You'll be throwing you're life away."

"I'm not throwing my life away if you're in it."

Bill didn't say anything as he leaned into Jeffrey and gave him a tight hug, sobbing, to which Jeffrey responded the same. They both had tear stained shirts, sitting like that for what felt like hours, before Bill realized that he better get going soon. He pulled away from the embrace and said with a queasy feeling, "I better hit the trail."

"I love you, Billy."

"I love you too, Izzy," Bill said back, using Jeffrey's special nickname that he had coined for him years ago back when they were just little kids.

Bill had to force himself to leave the house that night. But he failed in holding back the rest of his tears as he walked to the exit the town, officially an outlaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally didn't feel sad while writing this. Totally. Oh god, I feel like such a horrible human being for splitting these two up. I regret all my life choices.

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue is split into parts I and II, so the chapters aren't as long. Just want to make sure there's no confusion. :)  
> 


End file.
